


(I'm with the) Ballet Girl

by Niki



Category: Sk8er Boi - Avril Lavigne (Song)
Genre: "Nice Guys", Backstory, Character Bashing, F/F, Misses Clause Challenge, Re-Written Lyrics, Romance, Songfic, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 18:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5465954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niki/pseuds/Niki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He wanted her, he thought it plain,</i>
  <br/>
  <i>secretly she wanted him as well</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [innerbrat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/innerbrat/gifts).



> I just fell in love with your prompt, so had to do something with it. It's not only Ballet girl POV, but I hope it suits anyway. (Excuse my attempts at lyrics writing.)
> 
> The original song is Avril Lavigne's _Sk8er Boi_ , written by Scott Spock, Lauren Christy, Graham Edwards, and Avril Ramona Lavigne, and no disrespect is meant by taking it as basis of this story.

_He was a boy, she was a girl_  
_Can I make it any more obvious?_  
_He was a punk, she did ballet,_  
_what more can I say?_

That damn song was everywhere, and Lise would have known it was about her even if Mickey's face wasn't all over every damn music channel like he was the second coming. It wasn't even that good a song! 

The woman he'd found to sing it hardly even got a mention, it was all Mickey Steed, the guitar hero, the lyricist, the newest hot shit to sell records and tickets, and it was bad enough to have to see him and hear him every day, but to have _his_ version of the story out there as gospel?

She stuck up her nose at him, did she? Listened to her friends instead of seeing what a catch he was at fifteen. At fifteen he had exuded male privilege and had believed women owed him something just for being “a nice guy.” For him, being a “nice” guy meant opening doors to pretty girls and cursing them if they didn't thank him, taking them out on dates and expecting them to put out when he paid their meals – or he would, if anyone would go out with him, because he couldn't keep up the pretence of being “nice” even as long as a single conversation. He could never bother to listen to the girls, thinking none of them would have anything interesting to say, or would have any interesting hobbies.

He thought ballet was boring, but liked the costumes – even though the dancers “had no curves.” He belittled the dedication it took to practice, and accused her of making excuses when she made her way to her fifth practice of the week.

He'd tried a new tactic with her, trading on their shared past – they'd gone to the same kindergarten, and still lived in the same neighbourhood, and she had actually thought he was her friend. A bit crappy friend, who talked a bit too much about women's forms but a friend nonetheless.

He had kept up the pretence up for almost a year, year of her sharing her secrets and worries and dreams, and him listening. A year of ignoring her friends' warnings and assuring them he was only being friendly.

The prom season had robbed her of her illusions – suddenly he was expecting payments for all those shared moments, suddenly he cared only if she went to the prom with her, became his girlfriend. All the while she had thought she was making a friend, he had been trying to worm his way into her life under false pretences.

It had not been pretty, in the end. He'd blamed her, calling her a tease and a prude for not sleeping with him either, for not appreciating what a great guy he was. Like anyone else would ever want a stick like her, her head in the clouds and working hard to get rid of anything that would make her look like a woman.

It had been a cruel lesson, and to hear it now as his version? Especially as sung by another woman. His girlfriend, too, if one were to believe the excited PR stories that went around. It was such a crying shame, because she looked absolutely stunning in the video. The girl-next-door look she always fell for, with the tomboy fashion so popular in the scene. Maybe it wasn't her actual style, and only worn for the publicity material, but it suited her.

Lise wondered if Alli was her real or a stage name. She hoped Mickey had grown up enough to be a good boyfriend to her. The song could just be teenage pettiness, a story to sell records. She hoped success wouldn't go to his head, for her sake.

Kara started crying, and she went to pick her up from her cot. The sight of her daughter never failed to make her smile, even if she was also a reminder of another “nice guy” she'd had the misfortune to meet. Ryan had been “nice” exactly as long as she put out, and it ended the moment she got pregnant. 

She hadn't been naive enough to sleep with him without protection, neither one of them had been ready for the commitment a child meant, but the condom had broken down, once. She was mostly sure it had been an accident. Ryan couldn't have gotten out fast enough, even as she was still contemplating whether she would keep the child or not. 

She was happy – overjoyed – that she had decided to keep her, because becoming mother had been the best damn thing in her life. She had realised at college that she wasn't willing to dedicate herself to ballet, after all, breaking her body to chase the ideal, of committing her whole life to that. She wanted burgers and fries, a beer on Fridays, and sleeping in late on Sundays. Her mother had been disappointed, but had respected her right to choose her own way in the end. 

If only she could be as good a mother as she was when it came to letting Kara choose her own way. She could already feel the choking fear when looking at her fragile little body, thinking of the way the world could be so cruel, and wanted to protect her at any cost. But she wouldn't stifle her, she promised herself every day, she would let her develop her own wings and fly, even if she'd fly away from her. 

She fed her by the television, MTV on mute, because it was better than daytime TV. Mickey's video again. She looked at the letter on the TV table, still confused by it. She knew Mickey was coming to their home town on his tour, and knew some of her old friends were even going to go see him – ironically, of course. She wasn't going to, and then...

Then she received the letter. It had a ticket inside, and she thought it was a cruel jest of Mickey's, but then she saw the message. The writing looked feminine, and at least it wasn't Mickey's, that much she knew.

_Dear Ballet Girl,_

_there is more than meets the eye, and I want to find out the truth. Please hear me out,_

_Alix_

There was a phone number, and an e-mail address. She had been thinking about what to do about it since it arrived two days ago. How did this Alix even get her address? 

When Kara fell asleep, she finally opened her laptop to type a short answer. 

\- - -

They met in a café, public place agreed on by them both, but Lise still half-feared Mickey would be the one to show up. She'd left Kara with a friend, not wanting to bring her into a potentially threatening situation. 

She chose a table in the back, facing the door way, so she saw her as soon as she entered: it was the “Alli” from Mickey's video, wearing dark cargo pants with sneakers, and one of those “Disney Princess” t-shirts with Princess Leia on it. She was gorgeous in real life, and suddenly Lise regretted not going to more trouble with her own looks. She was in her “mom clothes” as her friends always called them – a comfortable pair of jeans, and a cheap t-shirt she wouldn't mind getting puke on. At least she'd brushed her hair.

Alli – or Alix – headed straight for her table, so she had to know what she looked like. Lise didn't know how to feel about that.

“Hi,” the newcomer said, smiling a little shyly. “This seat free?”


	2. Chapter 2

The club was small, they weren't that big yet, no matter how Mick liked to think of himself, and Alix could see the audience from where she was standing backstage. She hoped Lise had found her seat and that there had been no problems with the babysitter.

“Oh hey, Mick, I changed the lyrics for the skater boy song a bit, makes it easier for me to sing, that okay?”

“Sure, honeybunch, anything for you! Should have made it simpler for you from the start.”

Like he was fucking Shakespeare. That was typical Mick, though – acting all solicitous, while putting her down at the same time. It sounded like he'd bought one of those online courses on how to pick up women, and thought “negging” was the way to go. 

Alix smiled, spotting a familiar blonde hair in the audience. No matter, after tonight, Mick would know once and for all she wasn't his, and never would be.

\- - -

It wasn't their first song, no, because it might have been their biggest hit, but Mick didn't believe in giving the audience what it wanted, but what he thought they should want. In this case, his guitar solos and the ballad from the new album. The audience was with it, still, so Alix figured he kind of knew what he was doing. She was only waiting for one song, though.

“This next song is for someone real important, and I just wanted to take a moment to remind everyone that the way your boyfriend or girlfriend talks about their ex could be the way they one day talk about you, so, please let's respect each other. Here's Skater Boy vs Ballet Girl!”

She caught Lise's eye in the audience and heard the gap between chords as Mick realised something was up. The second guitar and the drummer kept playing, so she nodded her way through the opening chords before starting to sing her version of the song, the one so very much easier for her to sing:

_He was a boy, she was a girl,_   
_can I make it anymore obvious?_   
_He was a punk, she did ballet,_   
_what more can I say?_

_He wanted her, he thought it plain,_   
_secretly she wanted him as well._   
_He blamed her friends, spoiling her thoughts,_   
_like the problem was his baggy clothes._

_He was a skater boy, she said “See ya later, boy”_   
_but he would not take her “no,” she had a pretty face_   
_that's all she was for him,_   
_like it meant she owed something._

_Five years from now, she sits at home,_   
_feeding the baby, she's not alone_   
_she turns on TV, guess who she sees_   
_selling his crap on MTV_

_She calls up her friends, some of them know_   
_and they've got free tickets to see his show_   
_She tags along, stands in the crowd,_   
_looks at the boy who won't grow up_

_He was a skater boy, she said “Seeya later, boy”_   
_she wasn't good as just herself, now he's a music star_   
_and she's an awesome mom,_   
_he's still not seeing what she's worth_

_Sorry, boy, but you missed out_   
_Well, tough luck, that girl's mine now_   
_We are more than just good friends_   
_This is how the story ends_

_Too bad that you couldn't be_   
_someone nice that you could see_   
_there is more than meets the eye_   
_I see the person that's inside_

_She's just a girl, I'm just a girl_   
_Can I make it any more obvious?_   
_We are in love, haven't you seen_   
_how happy we both have been?_

_I'm with the ballet girl, I said “See you later, girl”_   
_I'm taking her home after the show, I will be at her house_   
_cuddling the babe we share_   
_forgetting the boy that didn't care!_

-The End-

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't find a place for it in the story, but they totally do Roller Derby together when Alix is not on tour (alone, not with Mick). They start up their own Junior roller derby team in their hometown when Kara grows old enough to want to play, and there isn't one yet. She's awesome at it, and Lise only worries most of the time that she's going to get hurt. Alix assures her it's good practice for when their daughter starts dating. 
> 
> And they all live happily ever after.


End file.
